I think the top and bottom pics are Quads North. The middle pic is Quads South or Quads in Calumet City. I train at the Quads South and Ed Coan is still in there every day. Quads South is extreamly hardcore and old school. That gold figure or statue isn't there any more.

I think the top and bottom pics are Quads North. The middle pic is Quads South or Quads in Calumet City. I train at the Quads South and Ed Coan is still in there every day. Quads South is extreamly hardcore and old school. That gold figure or statue isn't there any more.

Quads south.And Lil Golden Zuverman only stoped in for a quick workout.

Once a long time ago - I was in my 20's, I went to California. I went to the Muscle Beach Gym in Santa Monica. This famous, beloved relic, was once located on the unspoiled shores of Santa Monica. It was relocated by the persuasion of the city council to the underground basement of a collapsing retirement hotel four blocks inland. A very long, steep and unsure staircase took me to a cavernous hole in the ground with crumbling plaster walls and a ceiling that bulged and leaked diluted beer from the old timer's tavern above. Puddles of the stuff added charm to the dim atmosphere where three strategically placed 40 watt light bulbs gave art deco shadows to the rusting barbells, dumbbells, sagging milk crates and splintery hand-crafted 2x4 benches. Pulleys and twisted cable, a dozen Olympic bars, bent and rusty, and tons of plates - scattered throughout the 2500 square foot floor. Dumbbells up to 160# that rattled at broken welds. This was unquestionably the greatest gym in the world.

Here bodybuilding began, embryonic: the original, not an imitation. Here exercises were invented, equipment improvised, muscle shaped and size imagined and built, and the authentic atmosphere exuded like primal ooze. You were awash in fundamentals and honesty.

The "Gods" lifted here.

The "magic" didn't come from the pharmacist; it came from the soul, the era, the history in the making, the presence of un-compromised originality, yet to be imitated.

The Dungeon, a refuge, a place for a musclehead, a misfit, for people that harm themselves.

This was a junkyard, full of junkyard dogs. Biting was allowed and they torn it down. Spas and Spandex don't impress me. Move the weight. Stand Up. It's really very simple, just Stand Up.